Forbidden
by itchy magee
Summary: The son of the gargoyle Goliath and the daughter of a vengeful King engage in a forbidden romance.
1. Chapter 1

Forbidden

Paris, France. The moon is preening herself in the reflection of the Seine; the Eiffel Tower is glowing with radiance. A couple, happier than anyone could imagine, is strolling down the busy streets of Paris, consumed with love for each other.  
"I can't believe it," the woman said, in a thick, Scottish accent, "here I am, in the most romantic place in the world, with the man who will have me for a wife."  
"Oh, but the true honor is mine," Macbeth said, kissing his fiancée's hand, "that _you_ would have _me_."

Eileen Inglis would be taking Macbeth for her husband in just a few short days. It had not taken Macbeth as long as he had thought it would to recover from Demona's treachery. The last time he'd put his trust and love in a woman, she'd turned out to be a gargoyle out for his blood, and money. Eileen, however, he somehow knew he could trust. He knew she wasn't a gargoyle under the same spell as Demona; if she'd had any magic about her in the first place, his home defense system would have alerted him. Magic aside, he knew that Eileen wasn't just an ordinary human woman; she was the woman for him. She knew his past, and loved him still. She knew his present, and loved him still. She was the one.

Three days later, we see the two being married in Macbeth manor, the whole of Paris' nightlife witness to the joining of their lives. The moon smiled down through Macbeth's enormous window as the two shared their first kiss as a married couple.

Fast-forward two years. Our couple has lived happily in Paris for two years since their marriage. We see Macbeth sitting before a blazing fire, reading a morning paper, a smoking pipe resting on his lips.  
"Good morning my love." he says, sensing his wife standing in the doorway. He looks, and sees her smiling dreamily at him. Her long, blond hair was down, the morning sun making it seem as if it was made of gold.  
"Good morning to you my love." she replied in her deep, sultry voice, gliding over to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Macbeth put his paper and pipe down and guided her around the chair to sit on his lap.

"What is it my darling?" he asked. He knew there was something, not wrong, but different. Eileen only smiled, her cheeks flushed. She picked up his big, callused hand, and put it on her stomach. Macbeth looked at his wife, mouth open in astonishment.  
"We're going to have a baby." they said simultaneously.

Soon, the couple was making plans to move back to Scotland. Macbeth still had a castle there that he thought would be ideal to bring their Scottish child up in. A few months later, and Parisian doctors reveal the sex of the child...a girl.  
"And a bonnie Scottish lass she'll be." Macbeth said as the couple exited the doctor's office onto the streets of Paris.  
"As beautiful as her mother," he said, offering his arm.  
"And as strong willed as her father," Eileen said, accepting it.

Three months later, in Scotland, we see Castle Macbeth, its windows filled with light and life once again. Also, with worry. Macbeth is pacing next to a window, the setting sun illuminating the moors outside the east-facing windows. He is in a grand hallway, pacing outside one particular door. Suddenly, the door opens, and a dumpy, older Scottish woman bustles out, carrying soiled rags in a large basin. Macbeth is about to enter, but knows better and returns to his nervous pacing. He knew she would be okay; just because it was a home birth, didn't mean that he didn't provide her with the finest physician and equipment to ensure her and the baby's safety. Still, he didn't like the painful sounds coming from that room; he wanted to be in there with her. He swore he'd never let anything happ-

"Mr. Macbeth?" the plump midwife popped her head out of the door.  
Macbeth whirled around and all but sprinted to the door.  
"Yes, what?" he was a nervous wreck.  
"You may come in." the midwife said, ignoring his panicked look. Macbeth strode in, quickly, but smoothly, he didn't want to disturb the peace. He went and knelt by her side. Eileen was sitting up, tubes running out of her arms, all sorts of beeping equipment crowded into the room. But that wasn't what got Macbeth's attention. All he could see was his beautiful bride's flushed face, and sweet face of his baby girl. She had been crying, and was still whimpering even after her mother's soft crooning.

"She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Macbeth said, more to himself than to Eileen. This child wasn't his first, but she was his only daughter. And she was beautiful. She was now more calm, and had stopped crying. Macbeth kissed his wife gently, and stroked her matted hair.  
"Oh my angel. I love you." he said adoringly.  
"I love you too." Eileen said tiredly. Her eyes were shadowed, and drooping.  
"Mr. Macbeth," the midwife said, "you must leave so that they might rest."  
"Yes," Macbeth said, not moving, nor looking away from his wife and child. The midwife put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her.  
"Don't worry love," she smiled a round smile, "I'll not leave them."

It had been about a week after the birth of their daughter before the couple chose a name.  
"I know," Eileen said, thoughtfully, cradling the babe by the fire, "Alana."  
And so, Alana Macbeth grew up, a fine, yet rowdy Scottish lass. They were absolutely happy, a picture perfect family. Macbeth and Eileen both agreed that Alana should grow up not knowing about Gargoyles and the like, or her father's past.

Fast-forward three years. Macbeth and Eileen are sitting by the fire one evening, little Alana playing with a small pup they'd given her for Christmas. Eileen is suddenly overcome by a coughing fit.  
"Eileen," Macbeth gets up and kneels by her chair, "my love, are you alright?"  
"Oh Macbeth of course I'm alright," she smiled, giving him that look she gave him whenever he became worried over something small. Over the days, however, Eileen became more and more sick, until Macbeth decided it _wasn't_ nothing, and took her to a doctor. However, the doctor had to say what Macbeth never wanted to hear.  
"Mrs. Macbeth," he said, "you have breast cancer."

Over the months, Macbeth attempted to use every resource he had, financially, and not, to find a cure for his wife. He even considered contacting David Xanatos, but knew that in the end that would not bode well. After all of his efforts, all he could do was sit by his wife's side every day, and watch the futile efforts of the cancer treatments eat her away faster than the cancer. Day after day he watched her become weaker, and frailer. Until one day, she gathered up enough energy to speak to him.

"My love," she said, almost whispered.  
"Yes my darling?" Macbeth rushed to her side, taking her hands, kneeling by her side.  
"I love you," she said slowly.  
"I love you too," he said, tears coming to his eyes that hadn't been there for centuries.  
"Tell Alana I love her."  
"No," Macbeth said, firmly, "you'll be able to tell her yourself. You'll live my love. You'll live!"  
Eileen shook her head slowly, smally, as much as she could,  
"Don't forget about our daughter Macbeth," she said, starting to fall asleep, "don't, forget," her eyes closed, and she was quiet. Macbeth's heart stopped for those few seconds. However, it commenced its beating when he saw that she was merely sleeping, that the equipment was still showing a pulse. His love was still alive for now.

Later that night, Eileen Macbeth passed away peacefully in her sleep. Macbeth didn't know how to handle such grief. He barely noticed his five year old daughter asking her nanny where her mommy was out in the hallway. Macbeth's heart would be frozen to all affection for quite some years after that. Upon turning seven years old, he had his daughter sent to a boarding school in England. During the years after that, he lived in his castle in Scotland alone. All of his family gone, his servants fired. Everyone, gone.

It would be nine years before Macbeth remembered his wife's dying request...


	2. Chapter 2

Across the sea, through the deep and mystical fog of Oberon, lies the land of Avalon. There is a castle perched on a cliff, overlooking the magical sea. In the light of the moon, one can see figures flying about the castle. A closer look will reveal that they are Gargoyles! The legendary warriors of old! There are two humans who inhabit this castle alongside the gargoyles, a Protector, and a Princess. These gargoyles have thrived here for years since Goliath came and destroyed the High Magus.

There is a solitary gargoyle walking about the hills of Avalon, just beyond the castle. His skin is blue, his hair, black, and his face, elf-like, and build, rather strong. He is remembering his painful past. The memory of losing his mate to that not-so-distant battle haunts him still.  
"Michael!" an incoming gargoyle calls out to him.  
"Gabriel," he replies as his green comrade lands next to him.  
"What is it you find so fascinating about these moonlit hills?" Gabriel asks, joining Michael on his walk. "There is an air ball game going on back at the castle. We could use your keen eye."  
"Ironically enough, brother, it is the solitude I prefer about these hills." Michael said honestly.  
"You are still thinking of Mikala?" Gabriel asks.  
Michael was silent, "Sometimes, but that isn't the only reason I walk these hills."  
The two stop, and Gabriel puts his hand on Michael's shoulder, smiling,  
"I see, my brother. Please, come join your brothers and sisters when you are ready."  
"I will." Michael said as Gabriel launched himself off of the top of the hill.

The night comes to a close, the sun is readying himself to rise above the horizon, and rule the sky once more. Michael returns from his wanderings just in time. He lands atop his perch and kneels down to rest for the night. Gabriel is already on the neighboring perch, and gives Michael a nod. Michael notices him look at the empty perch next to him, and says,  
"Still no sign of Angela?" Gabriel looked out at the sea, red with the rising sun.  
"No, but she will return soon," he smiled, "I can feel it."  
And with that the two's conversation would be saved until the following night. For now, the sun had broken above the horizon, and began his tour of the heavens.

The sun was to the west now, and almost below the horizon.  
"The eggs will be waking up soon." the princess said, standing next to the Protector, between two perches.  
"Yes, yes they will." he seemed preoccupied by something. He was staring out at the darkening water.  
"What is it?" the princess asked. "What do you see?"  
The Protector said nothing; he just stared out at the water.  
"Come Princess, the gargoyles are waking up."

And indeed they were. Just as the two backed up, the mighty statues of gargoyles began to crack, fragments of stone being chipped off by some unseen force from within. Then, as if all at once, the statues burst and the life forms within roared and stretched their arms and wings. The two humans never tired of the spectacle of an awakening gargoyle.

There was a cry; a gargoyle on a higher perch noticed something. The clamor spread, and the word quickly reached Michael's ears that there was an approaching boat. Gabriel, upon hearing this, smiled and laughed triumphantly. He turned and flew down to the two humans. Michael looked further out to sea, arms crossed, wings folded over his shoulders, a puzzled look on his face. He tried to discern who was in the craft, when he saw the two humans leave the castle to greet the boat, and Gabriel soar down to the shore. There was a cry from the craft, and Michael immediately knew who it was. Gabriel answered, and landed on the sand as the boat neared the shore.

Michael could see two gargoyles, one massive, one much smaller, a human, and a gargoyle dog. He knew them to be Goliath and his clan, or, at least part of it. Angela jumped out of the boat, and ran through the small waves close to shore, Gabriel running out to meet her. They embraced, Gabriel picking her up and spinning her around. Michael knew just how much he had missed Angela, he and Gabriel were close rookery brothers. The Princess and the Protector greeted Goliath and his human friend, Elisa. He saw Bronx run over to greet Gabriel along with Angela.

The Princess led the group back to the castle, where it seemed the entire clan gathered around to greet Goliath and Angela. Michael glided down from his perch, and joined the throng as well. He greeted his rookery sister, and Goliath, and Elisa all in turn, showing his joy at their safe return. However, when he spoke to Elisa, she gave him an odd look. Michael just cast it out of his mind, he was sure she meant no ill.

There was to be a great feast that night, celebrating the group's return visit. A hunting party was sent out, a group stayed behind to prepare the hall, another group went to fetch the firewood, and another group began preparing the feast itself. Michael was one such Gargoyle out on the hunting party. He was the ideal hunter, tall and strong, and swift and accurate. It was not long before they returned to the castle with a rather large boar, and several quails and ducks. Within hours, the feast was ready, and the celebration began. The sprites of Avalon had taught a group of young gargoyles to play music, and the band began to play after a while. Angela, surprising Goliath and Elisa, stood up and began to sing. Apparently, she'd neglected to tell them of her singing prestige.

Goliath was stunned by his daughter's voice, Elisa as well. Her voice was so clear and pure and beautiful that it may as well have been all the beautiful fabrics of nature flowing from within her. After Angela's song ended, she sat down and giggled at her father's stunned look.

Elisa giggled alongside Angela, Goliath's stunned look was hilarious. She looked around the hall, and smiled to herself. Gargoyles certainly did know how to celebrate. The young people smiling, laughing, eating, and drinking; Elisa couldn't understand how anyone could treat them as different from humans. In her scanning the dining hall, Elisa's eyes fell on the young male she'd seen earlier. He had caught her off guard when he spoke; his voice was deep, reverent, and strangely familiar.

"Goliath," she said softly to the giant next to her. He looked down at her and she said, "that male over there," she pointed at the lean, blue gargoyle, "didn't he sound the least bit familiar?"  
"I heard no resemblance to any human or gargoyle I've ever met." He shook his head, his brow furrowed.  
"If my guess is any good," Elisa said half to herself, "I'd say that's another one of your children."  
To this, Goliath shook his head, "That cannot be, Demona and I..."  
"You only...once?" Elisa couldn't find the right word to use, and was hesitant should she cause him any pain.  
"Yes." He answered somewhat relieved.  
Elisa was still aware of the possibility of twins, but could go no further when the Princess stood up to make a speech.

"Goliath, Elisa, Angela, and Bronx", she smiled down at the gargoyle hound, "we, the defenders of Avalon, and your clansmen and women, welcome you all back to Avalon. We thank you for all the things you've done for us in the past, and pray that you will call Avalon your home." At this the young Gargoyles sent up a great cheer, and there was much clamor and chattering as the Princess took her seat once again aside the Protector.

Just before dawn, Elisa accompanied Goliath and the others up to the turrets and parapets of the castle where they would all roost for the night. Goliath hopped up onto a ledge, and crouched down, staring off into the pink horizon.  
"Will you be here at sunset?" Goliath asked Elisa, looking down at her.  
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiled up at him, and he turned back to face the rising sun, a smile on his lips. As the sun breached the horizon, Goliath and the surrounding gargoyles all began to turn to stone. Just beyond Goliath's stone form, Elisa caught a glimpse of the young gargoyle who was the focus of her thoughts for most of the night. She walked over to his stone form and studied his face. It was, undoubtedly, the face of Goliath, only thinner, more elfish. She looked at his wings and noticed the claws that resembled those atop Demona's wings.

"Elisa," she looked away from the gargoyle, and saw the Princess beckoning her, "come, I will show you to your quarters." Elisa obliged and followed her down the stone stairs. As they walked, she asked of the young male gargoyle.  
"Is it possible that he is Angela's twin?"  
"Not only is it possible, but it is so." The matronly woman smiled at her as they walked through the silent stone corridors of the castle.  
"Each gargoyle egg bears the mark of its mother, the one who laid it, and I remember the markings on each and every one of the eggs we escaped with." The Princess became serious, "I felt as though, if I remembered the marks of their mothers, I could honor them in that small way."  
Elisa was overjoyed at her discovery, but for the moment decided to console the Princess,  
"You did them the greatest honor of all by bringing up these young gargoyles so well. You couldn't find a better raised group of humans anywhere on earth nowadays." She chuckled.

"Thank you," the Princess said smiling as she stopped them in front of a thick wooden door. She opened it up to reveal a large and well furnished room.  
"Wow," Elisa said softly as she entered the room, "thank you so much, this is-"  
The Princess stopped her by raising her hand, "It is nothing. Good night, or day, Elisa."  
"Good day to you too," Elisa said smiling.  
She drew the thick curtains over the open windows, and laid down, exhausted. Had it not been for their tiresome journey and the party following after, she would have been kept wide awake by the exciting news that Goliath did, in fact, have a son.


End file.
